It's Not Alright
by AthenAltena
Summary: Sometimes it's alright to be weak.


A/N: Inspired by an oekaki I found on a Japanese image board. Since my Japanese is not the best I imagined the conversation, and this came out. Musical inspiration was _Bulletproof... I wish I was _by Radiohead. Also, thank you to members of various xxxHolic groups on Livejournal where this was initially posted for their comments and critique.

AA

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"I told you, I'm fine!"

"Not with a thirty nine degree fever, you aren't."

Watanuki cursed as his body shivered at that very moment, demonstrating Domeki's point. Watanuki curled around himself a little more, though the amount he could move was severely hampered by the presence of another body in the bed.

"I don't get it…" He sighed. "There are a million other things that could warm me up here. Something like an electric blanket, or a heater…"

"This is a temple." Domeki's voice was, as usual, positively deadpan. "My grandfather didn't like electricity – said it messed up the energy."

Watanuki grimaced. Haruka must be laughing at him from somewhere. He shivered again, prompting Domeki to pull up the blanket so only the tops of their heads were exposed to the bitterly cold January air. What little Watanuki could see without his glasses was colored orange by the lamplight filtering through the quilts, creating an almost otherworldly atmosphere. He was suddenly very conscious of the sound of his own breathing and the smell of Domeki's body – not something he usually thought about – and found it strangely soothing despite the uncomfortable closeness.

Despite the cocoon of quilt and the thirty seven degrees of heat Domeki was graciously providing Watanuki couldn't stop shivering, while conversely a fine sweat covered his forehead. Domeki tightened his grip around the boy's much thinner frame to more fully cover him.

At this point where the heat was coming from didn't especially matter to Watanuki. He hadn't felt this safe since… On second thought he couldn't really remember. Must have been when his parents were alive. He yawned as he felt his consciousness beginning to descend into some great abyss, not realizing that he'd unwittingly stepped on a landmine with his last train of thought.

--

Domeki drifted on the blade-edge of consciousness for hours, though it felt to him like mere minutes. He was purposely keeping himself partly awake, in case Watanuki needed anything. The heat of the smaller boy's body was almost unbearable, but he had already decided he would bear the discomfort. Even if it went unappreciated.

Despite his resolve he fell a bit too far into unconsciousness before he had time to realize what was happening. It was only when a sudden sharp pain illuminated the blackness behind his eyelids that he realized his failure. The humiliation was quickly replaced by concern as he realized just what had jolted him out of his slumber.

Within the mess of blankets Watanuki had somehow twisted himself into one of them and begun lashing out, landing several blows squarely into Domeki's chest and shins. Wincing, Domeki extracted himself from the mess and sat up to access the situation, which took longer than usual due to his sleep-addled state of mind.

Were those tears, or was Watanuki sweating? Domeki couldn't be sure, and was more than a bit startled Watanuki's hands thrust out desperately into the darkness, missing him by mere inches.

"No – Don't… Come back…!"

Some sort of spirit? Domeki frowned, hesitant to intervene just yet. Perhaps his grandfather was delivering some important message.

"No… Mom… Dad…"

Domeki winced. Guess not. Deciding that he'd stood by for long enough he threw the blankets off, grabbed him and shook with more force than he'd intended.

"Watanuki! Watanuki, wake up!" He hissed anxiously as he grasped Watanuki's pale shoulders hard enough to bruise.

As if on cue Watanuki's eyes snapped open and he gasped like a person surfacing from underwater. Blue eyes stared up at the plaster ceiling for several seconds before closing again.

Yes, they were tears. As if ashamed, Watanuki raised his hands to cover his face. Domeki bit his lip. Watanuki did not like to show weakness, and he'd been unlucky enough witness a moment of great weakness. Of course Watanuki would be embarrassed, especially considering it was Domeki.

Domeki sighed, and without thinking reached up to run his hands through Watanuki's hair. It was the least he could do. He wasn't one to spout meaningless flowery words of comfort and understanding in any situation, especially now, but what he did say he meant.

"It's alright."

Somehow Watanuki understood that Domeki wasn't saying everything was fine - far from it - but rather that it was alright to not be strong for a moment. Utterly exhausted, Watanuki dropped his hands and closed his eyes as tears ran down his face. Domeki silently lay down to cover Watanuki's shivering body with his own in the hope that something as inadequate as his body's heat could do something. Anything, really. But as fate would have it, it was enough.

The next several days were awkward – people incessantly fussed over Watanuki after catching wind of his nervous breakdown and the fever that had kept him immobile for several days, but Watanuki had regained the confidence that allowed him to put on a brave face despite everything. Domeki didn't expect any sort of thanks, so it was a welcome surprise when he found, tucked between two pieces of sushi on a torn bit of wrapping paper, a simple message:

_I'm not alright._

And then, scribbled on the edge as if it had been an afterthought:

_Thank you._


End file.
